Forever-Man
by Prolix Descartes
Summary: The Raggedy Man crashed into their lives soaking wet and hungry, and it was obvious he was different. There was something about him that drew her to him - probably the fact he wore action and excitement like a ribbon. A red one. A bright one. With the big adventure he was offering... she was definitely going to need a bigger notebook.
1. Waiting For My Rocket To Come

_Saturday_

I'm a kid.

I know. Everyone knows that.

But I feel extra…kiddish right now.

Me and Amelia – Amelia is my friend, my best one ever – play at her house all the time. Mine is too small. I don't have a big backyard like her and there aren't enough rooms for a fun game of hide-and-seek. So I walk to her house almost every day.

Now, we don't really play in her room. We used to. But then, the wall cracked open. And it got bigger and bigger till it was longer than Amelia's leg. Sometimes, when we used to sleep on her floor in a blanket tent, there would be talking, coming from the crack in the wall. The same voice, too. It was growly and sounded mean.

I was scared. Amelia was scared.

So now when I come to Amelia's, we usually stay in the kitchen and living room and every room but hers. Sometimes we sleep in the hallway, and we make our blanket tents on the rails for the staircase and sip hot cocoa and look up at her room. We don't always. Only when the crack in the wall is being more noisy and scary than normal.

But today was different. It is different. It's nighttime right now, and my brother always says that when it gets dark enough, it's called midnight, and that's when tomorrow starts. So maybe yesterday was different. The watch my brother gave me only has the Is and Vs and Xs on it, and I don't know how to read those yet. I don't read in Roman. Only English.

Amelia is reading while I'm writing. She says that if I want to write a real story – and I do, and she knows because she's my almost-sister – I have to do what Ms. Kitely says and "elaborate."

Okay.

I'm gonna write about what happened, but I need a title first. Creative titles are the best. They make books more fun to read, I think.

Amelia says that we could make a great big adventure book. I think so too.

She knows what to call it. And she tells me.

And I like it.

Here goes.

 _Our Raggedy Man_

 _By Amelia Pond and Ariane Blythe_

It was cold outside tonight.

That's why we were even in the kitchen in the first place.

Amelia and I were being brave enough to sit by the wall. THE WALL, in her room. We sat watching it, waiting for the growling voice that spoke from it.

"I don't think any maintenance guy can fix this," I said quietly. Amelia tilted her head, watching The Wall closely still.

"No. We need someone better to fix it." She looked brave about it, even when she was scared. "I asked Santa to send someone to help again. Someone strong and grown up. Like a policeman."

"Or a doctor?" I asked. Amelia laughed.

"No, a policeman. I've been good, so Santa will help."

"Isn't he sleeping? Like how bears do, but opposite? My brother said Santa is allergic to flowers."

"Well…maybe. But he won't mind, I don't think."

I nodded. Amelia was good. I don't think anyone wouldn't help her.

"It's creepy," I said, shivering. My best friend hugged me and I hugged her back. I really didn't want to stay here.

"We could fill the kettle with hot water," she thought. "And we can make tea and drink it in the kitchen."

I smiled. Sometimes Amelia seemed like she was a year and a half older than me instead of the other way around.

"Ooh, great idea!" I said. We stood together and ran down to the kitchen hand-in-hand. I was glad when her door was shut. I loved Amelia's room…just not The Wall.

I found the kettle in the cupboard and Amelia set to filling it with water while I started with the stove.

It could feel lonely. Amelia's Aunt Sharon was never at home, and when she was she didn't care much about my friend. She wasn't mean. Just a little uncaring, kind of.

But that was okay. Me and Amelia were enough for each other (well, us and our other friend Rory Williams, and sometimes Mels). We were happy with working together quietly.

And then it happened.

Amelia was about to take the kettle to the stove. I was carrying a box of tea bags.

And then there was a rumbling, and a sound like… like a key being scraped on strings or something. And out of nowhere… crash!

Everything shook around crazily. Amelia dropped the kettle back in the sink and suddenly the tea bags were spilled all over the floor, and we ran to the front door with wide eyes.

It was…

Weird.

I don't think that's the right word, but it was.

So weird. And impossible, too, I think.

There were flashes of blue and yellow outside. Sparking.

Amelia and I looked outside – and we saw a crashed box.

It was a blue box, old looking, like the kinds you see on TV (but the kids here don't say that. They call it 'telly,' and I don't understand…TV is shorter and sounds better). It was smoking and lying on the ground. And it said something. There words on the side, and they said 'Police Public Call Box.'

Police Public Call Box.

Amelia let out a breath.

"Thank you, Santa," she said quietly. Then she started walking towards it.

"Wait!" I whispered. She stopped.

I gripped her arm tightly.

"What is it?"

She looked at me with her chin lifted up. Her knuckles were white with her tight fists. She was determined.

"It says 'police.' But we won't know for sure if we don't look."

I wasn't sure, but I was curious too, and I trusted my best friend.

"… Okay. Let's go."

We walked towards it quietly. Baby steps, holding our breath.

We were a few steps away, and we stopped to look.

A blue box. Wood?

But it should be broken, or on fire or something.

This wasn't right. It really wasn't.

"Wow," Amelia whispered.

I nodded.

And then something else happened.

The door opened fast and with a bang.

A rope with a hook on the end flew out, and it almost hit me, but Amelia pulled me away.

I screamed a little. Just a little. Amelia almost did too.

And then I had to bite my mouth to stay quiet, because then a man poked up out of the open door. Out of the little box, noodle arms and everything!

Amelia saw it too, so no one can say that it was a dream.

He was breathing hard, like he was tired.

Oh. Well, maybe because he climbed up, it looked like.

He was smiling a little, mouth open.

And then he said, "Can I have an apple?"

I blinked. Amelia blinked.

"Huh?"

"'S all I can think about. Apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving? That'd be new. Never had cravings before…"

He went quiet for a minute.

Then he pulled himself up to sit on his box's edge, and he looked down into it.

He whistled a little. "Whoa. Look at that."

"Are you…alright?" I asked nervously. He was odd. A bit not…right. I wasn't sure. But I did wonder what he saw when he looked down into his box.

"Oh, just had a fall," the man said cheerfully. "All the way down there, right to the library. Hell of a climb back up."

"You're soaking wet," Amelia told him. She was right. The man's clothes were stuck to him and his face was shining. Drops of water dripped off of his floppy brown hair.

"I was in the swimming pool," he explained.

"You said you were in the library."

I nodded with Amelia, and the man nodded too.

"So was the swimming pool."

That didn't sound like a very good idea. I wonder if maybe this man was the one who looked at a tiny blue police box and said, 'Let's put a swimming pool in here…hey, I like libraries, so we should throw one of those in too!'

Amelia looked at him for a while.

"Are you a policeman?" she asked. I thought maybe he was a little bit too…something to be a policeman.

"Why?" The man looked a little curious. "Did you call a policeman?"

"Didn't you come about the crack in the wall?" I asked.

Now he looked more curious.

"What crack?" He leaned forward a tiny bit, and fell to the ground. "Agh!"

"What? What is it?" Amelia and I went a little closer. I watched the strange man with wide eyes. "Are you okay…sir? Mister?"

"What? No, I'm fine." He waved his hand. "I'm okay. This is all perfectly norma –"

He coughed – and a little cloud of golden dust fell out of his mouth, sparkling.

He was going to say normal. I know he was.

Amelia tilted her head to the side, like Rory's neighbor's beagle did sometimes.

"Who are you?" she asked finally.

The man answered right away. "I don't know. I'm still cooking. Does it scare you?"

"No. It's just looks a bit weird."

It sounded rude. But I kind of thought so too.

He shook his head.

"No, no, no. The crack. Does it scare you?"

Amelia and I nodded our heads.

"Well, alright, then," the man said. "No time to lose. I'm the Doctor. Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off."

He stood up, smoothed his shirt out, and walked right into a tree.

"Are you alright?!" I asked with Amelia.

He stood up straight again, like nothing happened.

"Early days," he said. "Steering's a bit off."

It was funny, really. He shook his head a little and started walking toward the house like he lived there. Amelia ran after him.

I waited a little, and watched his box a little longer. It felt hot. I felt it from where I was standing.

"He's a little crazy," I said to nobody. "But a little funny, too."

I started walking after them, hiding my small giggle.

Amelia was in the kitchen with the man who called himself the Doctor. It was a weird name. Especially because he came out of a police box. Maybe he had a friend named Firefighter and a cousin called Lawyer.

The Doctor was holding an apple. He took a big bite.

I jumped out of the way when he spit it out. He looked disgusted.

"That's disgusting," he said. "What is that?"

"An apple," Amelia said, and I nodded. What else could it be?

The Doctor shook his head.

"Apples're rubbish. I hate apples."

"You said you loved them," Amelia reminded him. She never forgot a thing.

"No," the Doctor said. "No, no, no. I like yoghurt. Yoghurt's my favorite. Get me yoghurt."

(I never did understand why Miss Kitely started telling me to put an 'h' in 'yogurt.' But I don't think I really understand why Dad and Joshua and I had to move to England away from Mom and Ken.)

The Doctor spit the yoghurt out, too.

I never liked it either.

But now there was yogurt and spit on my shoes.

He didn't really notice me shaking it off, it looked like.

"I hate yoghurt," he said grumpily. "It's just stuff... with bits in."

I smiled a little bit, and covered it with my hand. The Doctor saw it, and he looked surprised. And then he gave me a smile too, and it made his eyes crinkle and his ears lift a little bit. He looked nice with that smile.

And then he went back to looking sour again, licking his teeth clean from the yoghurt.

"Wait, you just said yoghurt was your favorite," Amelia said. She looked like she was having a little bit of fun too.

The Doctor shook his head.

"New mouth, new rules," he said. "'S like eating after cleaning your teeth, everything tastes wrong. Argh!"

I stepped away a tiny bit when he shook and twitched, hard, and let out a shout.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

Amelia was louder.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" the Doctor asked. "It's not my fault. Why can't you give me any decent food?" He leaned closer to Amelia, dripping water onto the table from his hair and clothes. I remembered, he was still soaked. "You're Scottish. Fry something."

Amelia looked at me and back at him before nodding. She ran to get a pan and turn on the stove. I stepped past the Doctor and went to the hall closet. I looked through the stacks of towels, and reached for the biggest, fluffiest one I could find.

The Doctor was watching Amelia fry bacon when I came back. His back was facing me, and I sighed a little. I was really, really short standing behind him.

I stretched up and put the towel on his shoulders, and he jumped a little. He turned his head to the side and looked down at me, then at the towel, and back at me.

He smiled the nice smile again and dried his hair off.

I smiled, too. To myself.

"Ah, bacon!" he said to Amelia, smiling at her now.

She put a plate down for him and he cut a piece, sticking it in his mouth.

Then he made a blegh noise and pulled the bacon out, dropping it on the plate again.

"Bacon," he said. He sounded grossed out. "That's bacon. Are you trying to poison me?"

I didn't understand. I like bacon.

So I took the plate away, and I threw away the pieces that his spit got on and kept the rest. I like bacon, but that was kinda gross. And a waste.

Amelia was heating up a plate of beans then, and the Doctor seemed like he liked those.

"Ah, you see? Beans."

And then he put some in his mouth, and it got spat into the sink.

I made a face. He probably had a bucket of spit in his mouth and he used it a lot, too.

"Beans are evil," he said. "Bad, bad, beans." He watched Amelia make a plate of bread and butter and the smile came back.

"Bread and butter. Now you're talking."

I had to jump out of the way then, because after he tried it he picked up it up, ran to the door and threw it outside, plate and everything.

He hit the neighbor's cat, too!

"And stay out!" he yelled.

"We've got some…carrots…" I said quietly.

He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Carrots? Are you insane?" Then he stopped. "No. Wait. Hang on. I know what I need. I need, I need, I need…" He looked in the fridge and freezer, and pulled something out. "Fish fingers…" I opened my mouth. "…And custard." I closed it.

The Doctor was nice. He was picky, like me only very, VERY picky, and his clothes were all ragged. He had a very nice smile and was full of energy. And now he was sitting at the table with us eating fish fingers and custard, while Amelia and I shared ice cream and the clean bacon.

"… Funny," Amelia said. She said what I was thinking a lot of the time.

The Doctor chuckled. (I've never used that word. I like it.)

"Am I? That's good. Funny's good." He took another bite. "So what are your names?"

"Amelia Pond," my best friend said.

"And Ariane Blythe," I added, scooping a little ice cream out with a piece of bacon.

I don't like my name. There were some older, meaner and smarter kids who would pronounce it "Aryan," and salute. So I read about Aryans. And now I can't like my name.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" The Doctor was smiling at Amelia. "Amelia Pond. Like a name in a fairy tale." He looked at me. "And Ariane – that's a Welsh name, means 'silver.' Brilliant names, both of you." He tilted his head a little. Are we in Scotland, girls?"

I sank into my chair. "No," I said right away. "I wish. Closer to home."

Amelia nodded. "Our families had to move to England. It's rubbish."

"Oh." His eyebrows came together for a bit. "Well…what about your mum and dad, then – are they upstairs? Thought we'd have woken them by now." He looked up for a bit.

"I don't have a mum and dad," Amelia shrugged. "Just an aunt."

"Hm. I don't even have an aunt."

Amelia made a face. "You're lucky." The Doctor smiled at that.

"I know," he said. "So, your aunt. Where is she, then?"

"Out."

Like always. Amelia's Aunt Sharon always was out doing something or other. Maybe partying? Joshua says sometimes that grown-ups do that when they leave for the night. Other things, too, but he wouldn't say what.

"And she left you all alone?"

"I'm not scared," Amelia insisted. She saw the sad look on his face. I did too. But you know what? She was right. She's the bravest person I know.

"'Course, you're not," the Doctor agreed. "You're not scared of anything. Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of a box, man eats fish custard… and look at you, just sitting there. So." He paused. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

The Doctor looked Amelia and I over, before he spoke.

"Must be a hell of a scary crack in your wall."

It was.

He had no idea. It was.

And it still is.


	2. Waiting For My Rocket Part Deux

It's getting a little darker now. Amelia's holding a flashlight (not a torch. Torches are something else and British words are strange) for me so I can write.

My hand is getting tired.

Amelia just offered to write for me, but… her handwriting is a little…

I just want to be able to read the story later.

Okay.

After he had his snack and we had ours, we walked back up to Amelia's room. My best friend took an apple from the fruit bowl and bent over it for a minute, following the Doctor. I was the last to start walking… because, oh, no, we were going back.

Back to The Wall.

I stopped as Amelia and the Doctor were walking to the bedroom.

Amelia saw first, and she looked back.

"Come on, Ariane. It's going to be fine."

The Doctor stopped too, and looked back at me from his spot way ahead.

His green eyes were understanding. He smiled reassuringly.

"Ah, come on, Ariane Blythe," he said. "It'll be alright. You can trust me to deal with it, whatever it is…though I'm sure I have a good idea on that."

I looked at Amelia. She nodded and waved her hand at the door.

"The Doctor'll fix it," she said. The Doctor nodded.

I swallowed.

But they were waiting, and watching me and it was a little embarrassing. So that was why I bit my lip and ran to catch up. Amelia let me secretly hold onto her sleeve. I didn't want to look scared in front of my best, bravest friend and an also-brave, smart, strong kind-of stranger like the Doctor.

Maybe he knew.

But he didn't say anything.

And when I stood behind Amelia – just a little bit – in her room, in front of The Wall, both of them let me.

The Doctor walked right up to it. Put his face real close and everything.

"Ooh, you've had some cowboys in here," he said. "Well, not actual cowboys, though anything can happen."

Amelia finished tinkering with the apple. She walked right up to the Doctor and The Wall, and handed it to him. He blinked and looked at it, then back at her.

"I used to hate apples," she explained, "So my mum put faces on them."

The Doctor smiled. "She sounds good, your mum." He put the apple in his coat pocket. "I'll save it for later."

He turned to The Wall again. "This wall is solid… And the crack doesn't go all the way through it," he mumbled. "So here's a thing. Where's the draft coming from?"

I didn't remember any draft. So I stepped a little closer, a little past Amelia, and I felt it. Amelia's room was warm, except for there. Like there was an air conditioner hidden in The Wall.

The Doctor pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a mix between a pen and a flashlight. The kind you buy at a space museum gift shop. But then he started waving it over the crack in the wall, and it was making a high-pitched buzzing sound and I figured he probably had never really been to the Air and Space Museum or anything.

Amelia watched, a little confused. She probably thought it was a pen or something, too.

"It's not a pen, okay, Amelia?" I told her quietly. She looked at me.

"I know, you nit."

She is my best friend.

The Doctor flipped the not-pen back to hold it in front of his face.

"Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey," he muttered aloud. I hid a small giggle. I've never heard that. "Know what this crack is?"

"What is it?"

"It's a crack," he said, "but I'll tell you something funny. If you knocked this entire wall down, the crack would stay put, 'cause it's not in the wall."

I would ask, but Amelia always asks the questions.

"Where is it then?"

"Everywhere. In everything. It's a split in the skin of the world. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched, pressed together right here in the wall of your bedroom." He glanced at Amelia. "Sometimes, can you hear?"

"Voices!" I exclaimed, a bit too loudly. I looked at my laces. "Yes. We hear voices, sometimes."

I jumped away from The Wall then, behind the Doctor – the voice was back. It was about its normal volume – on the really awful days it sounded like the person on the other end pressed their mouth right up to the crack and shouted at the top of their lungs.

But now it just sounded like thunder. Growling and dangerous, but far away.

The Doctor looked at the Wall a moment, and then he grabbed Amelia's night time glass of water.

And then he spilled the water over his shoulder, right on me.

"Ack!"

I squeaked a little. Amelia still thinks it's funny. It's not. She wouldn't think so either if her clothes were damp.

The Doctor heard me and turned around. His light, light eyebrows jumped up.

"Ooh," he said. "Sorry 'bout that, my bad…"

Then he turned back and forgot about me. He pressed the glass to The Wall and put his ear over it, like in this spy movie I saw once.

"Prisoner Zero…?" he asked, quietly. Confused, even.

"…has escaped," I finished, just as quiet.

"Right, Prisoner Zero has escaped. That's what I heard. What does it mean?"

"It means," the Doctor said, "that on the other side of this wall, there's a prison…and they've lost a prisoner. And you know what that means?"

"We need a better wall?" I asked.

"Exactly. The only way to close the breach is to open it all the way. The forces will invert and it'll snap itself shut. Or…" He went quiet, rubbing his neck.

"Or…what?" Amelia knew when to worry. And now I was worried.

"Well…you know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better?"

"Always," I said, and Amelia nodded.

The Doctor looked us both in the eyes.

"Everything's going to be fine," he said.

Well, at least he warned us.

He took Amelia's hand, and I took Amelia's.

He took his not-pen and pointed it at The Wall, and scanned it. (I think it's scanning. It looked like it.)

I jumped a little – The Wall opened right up at the crack in it, and I couldn't see with all the light it spilled out.

Is that what Amelia's been keeping in her bedroom for so long?

"Prisoner Zero has escaped. Prisoner Zero has escaped."

Ohh… there it was, louder than ever. And the Doctor was leaning a little closer, okay.

"Hello?" he called. "Hello?"

Then a giant blue eye appeared in the crack in The Wall. It was huge.

"What is that?" Amelia asked.

You know what a shooting star looks like?

I've never seen one. But I think it might look like the light we saw. It shot out of the Wall and went to the Doctor, and he doubled over.

And just like that, the crack in the Wall banged shut again.

"There," the Doctor said. "You see? Told you it would close. Good as new!"

"What was that thing?" Amelia asked him. "Was that Prisoner Zero?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I think that was Prisoner Zero's guard. Well, whatever it was, it sent me a message." He showed us a wallet-looking leather thing, with a piece of paper inside. "Psychic paper," he explained. "Takes a lovely little message. 'Prisoner Zero has escaped.'" He went quiet a moment. But why tell us? Unless…"

"Unless…" I repeated. Unless what?

"Unless Prisoner Zero escaped through here…" he said. "But he couldn't have. We'd know."

I'm pretty sure that's what you call a jinx. But, no, the Doctor would know.

We left the room, finally – I know the Doctor fixed it, but I was going to wait a while to be sure.

Amelia's house has a set of stairs. Those were a lot of fun. Sliding down banisters and making tents. The Doctor looked up the stairs and at all the doors. I wonder what he was thinking.

"It's difficult," he said. "Brand new me. Nothing works yet. But there's something I'm missing…in the corner of my eye…"

Things were quiet for a few seconds.

And then the bell rang.

It sounded like a warning. It sounded bad. The Doctor thought so too. His eyes widened.

"Oh, no - no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Doctor?" I asked loudly – but he was off running, through the halls, in the kitchen, out the door and to his police box.

"I've got to get back in there," he said desperately. "The engines are phasing – it's going to burn!"

"But it's just a box," Amelia pointed out. "How can a box have engines?"

"It's not a box – it's a time machine," he told her.

Amelia looked how I felt, surprised.

"What, a real one? You've got a real time machine?"

"Not for much longer if I can't get her stabilized," he said. "Five minute hop into the future should do it."

"Can we come with you?"

The Doctor looked us over. He shook his head.

"Not safe in here, not yet. But five minutes. Give me five minutes and I'll be right back."

Oh.

I bit my lip. Oh.

"People always say that," Amelia muttered.

The Doctor was quiet. Then he asked, "Am I people?"

I blinked.

"Do I even look like people?" he added.

Then he smiled.

"Trust me. I'm the Doctor."

He turned, to jump back in – and I got an idea.

"Doctor! Mister Doctor, hold on!"

His head turned, and he raised his eyebrows, waiting.

I bit my lip, and pulled on my sleeves. Hurry, I reminded myself.

"…Is there room on your time machine for my brother?" I asked. "Joshua Scott. He's almost sixteen. If he fits, can he come too?"

And the Doctor smiled at me.

"You know, I think I have just enough space for a 16 year old," he said. "Alright, then, Ariane Blythe. Go get your brother."

I couldn't help it. My eyes filled up, and I ran up to the box, and threw my arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Doctor! Thanks, so much!"

He gave me a grin, and ruffled my hair.

"Well, I probably have around forty seconds left, so here goes."

And he jumped.

"Geronimo!"

Amelia and I ran in different directions then, after we watched his incredible machine disappear into nowhere.

"I'll be right back!" I called, "I'm gonna go pack and tell Josh!"

"Be quick!" she called back, running to get her own bags.

I ran down two streets with no stopping, 'til I reached my house, at the end.

Dad wasn't home. Again. He was probably with his girlfriend. I'm kind of glad he found someone he likes, finally, but it's not Mom, and he forgets about my brother and I.

Is that love, then? Love is selfish.

I ran up the steps and into the small building. Much too small for any really good game – that's why I went to Amelia's.

I picked my favorite suitcase – blue, with gold on the edges – and started putting things in. Five changes of pants, five shirts, under clothes, lots and lots of socks, another pair of shoes…toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, hair ties, comic books, normal books…oh, yeah – pens and pencils, and two extra notebooks. One wouldn't be enough for this story.

Then I stuffed a little locked chest in, too. It has my savings, and a picture. My favorite picture, of me and Mom and Dad, Joshua and Ken… all happy. And together.

And it's safe, in my suitcase now.

This picture will see great things.

I put the suitcase by the door. And then I went to the room by mine.

I didn't knock anymore. I used to, but I learned that you won't get an answer.

So I went in, quietly. I turned on the lights, and there was Joshua.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands. He gets like this, usually for a month, and sometimes a little more. But then he goes back to being happy.

"Joshua?"

He didn't move. So I went and I sat next to him. His eyes were closed.

"Josh? Scotty?"

I poked him. He sat up, finally, and looked down at me.

"Oh. Ariane. Hi, kid."

My brother makes me hurt. But I still love him.

"Joshua, I have something to tell you."

He raised his eyebrows, just a little bit. His eyes had the tiniest bit of light in them now.

"What's up?" he asked.

I didn't know how to tell him. It was good, very good – and I don't know how to give good news.

So I spread my arms out.

"I met someone."

And I did. I'm not sure why he smiled at that, but I was glad. His smiles were nice, too.

"Did you? Oh, no. I'm not ready to be an in-law."

"Huh?" It didn't matter. "Josh, I met a Doctor. And he's going to help."

His mouth went straight again.

"Oh." He slumped, just a little, but enough for me to see. "Ari, I…Doctors, they don't do much for me. I'm beyond their help."

I don't believe him. 'Beyond help' means you have to be dead or having a heart attack. He's not beyond help. And even if he is, he hasn't met the Doctor I mean.

"You're not beyond _my_ Doctor's help."

" _Your_ doctor?" The little smile came back. "Well. I should meet this doctor one day. See what's so special about him."

"You will!"

I jumped to my feet.

"Josh, he's got a magical blue box that goes through time! Amelia and I met him today. And, Josh, he promised he'd take us away!"

I hugged my brother. He put his chin on my head, quietly.

"The Raggedy Doctor is going to take us away, Josh. He's going to take us someplace better. Someplace you don't have to be so sad.

"I hate seeing you sad, Joshua. But the Doctor's going to fix it! He fixed Amelia's problem, and he'll fix yours, too."

My big brother didn't speak for a long time.

I started to think I put him to sleep.

But then he hugged me back.

"That sounds nice," he whispered. "That sounds so nice right now, Ari." He swallowed, and let me go.

"Tell you what," he said. "When your Raggedy Doctor comes back, come and get me. I'll be here, Ari."

I nodded, and hugged him again. Before I left his room I stopped.

"Are you going to pack?" I asked.

Joshua smiled, but with only half his mouth.

"I don't need much," he said. "Go ahead, kiddo. And take a light."

"You mean a torch?" I joked.

"Nah."

And so I took a flashlight, and my suitcase, and I ran all the way back to Amelia's.

She was waiting when I got back. She was sitting on her suitcase and I put mine down next to hers. We sat there together and waited.

And that's what happened. That's why we're sitting out here. Waiting.

He's a little late – actually, almost an hour late – but I can forgive that.

It's dark, but we have our lights, the porch light and the moon.

Amelia and I are full of hope right now. My hope is two times as strong – because I'm hoping for Joshua, too.

Because the Doctor will come, and he'll take us away.

He doesn't look like a liar.

He wouldn't break a promise. And I know that for sure.

He's coming back.

He's coming back.

 _He'll come back._


	3. Sometimes Rockets Are Late

Alright. Sometimes, it's hard to keep track of time. Maybe his time machine is broken. I started reading about time. It's confusing. You can get lost, it's kind of like an ocean. He'd be back, though.

Amelia and I waited until the sky started turning purple, then pink and orange. I woke up right when it started to hit blue. And she felt me moving, so she woke up too.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Morning time?"

I still can't read the watch. Maybe it's not even set right.

"He's late," Amelia pointed out. She was right.

"I know." But he was coming back, so it was okay. I think. "Maybe he…had to stop somewhere?"

Amelia shrugged. "Maybe." She stood up and stretched, looking cold.

I was cold. My clothes had dried, though. That was good.

"He'll probably come today," Amelia said.

"Hours and hours is forgivable, right?"

Amelia thought about it, picking up her suitcase. Her eyes were tired, and a little disappointed.

"Well…" she said, "Just this once."

She is very, very generous.

We went inside after that – we sat in the kitchen and had leftover beans with bread – keeping watch. Because it could show up any minute and we would be ready right away.

I don't pay attention to time. I have never, ever paid attention to time like this. But right now I was watching the hand on the clock swim slowly round…

Hours were going to pass us by. More, I mean. And so I'm super glad Amelia brought out the arts-and-crafts box. Or I would have gone a little bit nuts.

She started making dolls, the way she does – fabric dolls, the ones where you stuff them up and glue things like bracelets and ties on them.

"No, Ariane," Amelia fussed, "His tie was lighter blue than that!"

I stopped cutting.

"Okay, okay…"

I picked another blue.

"I wasn't spending the whole time looking at his clothes, Amelia," I muttered. "I was looking at his face."

"It's alright – you've got me. You can do the face and I'll do the clothes."

And, you know, the Doctor-plush was actually kind of brilliant in the end. Tatty blue shirt, brown pants and white shoes – and the lighter blue tie, too – and then his face. Green eyes. Light eyebrows and an odd chin. And he had…deep shadows on his cheeks, too, his cheekbones, but I couldn't do those without him looking really strange, like he had hair growing on the sides of his large nose. So I skipped those.

And we did us, too – 'cause we'd all be going on an adventure as a big team. Amelia with her red hair and red coat, and me. Brown and brown-green and stuff.

I even decorated a fourth one, for Joshua. He was the tallest, and I picked the brightest blue for his eyes. My brother is prettier than I am. He got my mom's eyes and hair, all sky and golden-brown sand.

'F only the Doctor had come in five minutes. I'd like to have a great big adventure. I'd like to see Joshua's blue eyes smiling.

Real smiles, too. Those weeks where he suddenly gets all hyper and happy all of a sudden, those don't seem real. He's sick, he tells me sometimes, he knows he's sick, sick in the head. And I hate it.

But what else can I say? All that happened an hour and a half ago. I'm home, and Josh and Dad aren't – they're working. It's Sunday and I had to go and make sure the chores are done before I can go back with Amelia…

Oh, well. All I've left to do is the dishes in the sink. And then I'll go back.

And then we'll go.

In the meantime, I have stuff to do.

And the Doctor will be back.


	4. Late Is Forgivable

_And the Doctor will be back. And the Doctor will be back._

It has been four weeks, but the Doctor will be back.

And he'll take us away and I'll fill up this book, and everything will be wonderful because _he will be back._

Joshua's mood is up in the clouds right now. I say his smiling weeks are fake, and I mean it. There's something a little too crazy about his random energy and wanting to do stuff.

Sometimes he asks, about the Doctor. And sometimes Amelia answers, and sometimes I answer.

We both tell him that he's coming. We're both firm about it. Everyone's late sometimes. Some people are a month late.

But we have school to keep us busy, and a new game, too, one we need Rory for. That's 'cause he plays the Raggedy Doctor, and we play us. We play in the playground, at Amelia's house, at the park, anywhere with enough space for a pretend time machine.

 _Three Months_

Sub-headings. Those are handy. I'm going to start putting the date, to remind me. But not the normal date. The Doctor-date. That's the amount of time since he left. I have to remember when everything happens, and I think it's important to know how far between everything was without having to look at a calendar. Besides, it looks different, and different is good.

I have to be careful, though, not to mix up the real date and the Doctor-date. See, one time Ms. Kitely had the hardest time understanding why I put _Two Months and Five Days_ on the date line on my math paper. And she didn't understand when I told her.

Adults think they have to treat kids like, well, kids, though. So when I told her about the Doctor and the special dates and how we were waiting, she smiled, kind of sadly, in a way, and put a hand on my head and said to "Just remember to keep your Raggedy Doctor out of your math problems, alright?"

She didn't believe me.

 _Three Months and Two Weeks_

Raggedy Doctor in the park, Raggedy Doctor in lots of cartoons. Amelia is good at drawing and crafting, and Rory is good at pretending he likes fish fingers and custard. I'm good at writing about it. We have lots of adventures planned and drawn and we act them out, and I write, and I write, and I write 'til I can't feel my hand.

There's writing contests that I've started joining. One of them was My Biggest Adventure, where you have to write about something big happening in your life.

So I wrote about the Doctor, and me, and Amelia, and I did my best and I was proud, so proud of it. It had great sounding parts in it, like _my best friend is all courage and fairy tales_ and _she's beautiful, big and so blue it's like you've taken a paintbrush and dipped it into the deepest part of sky and painted every little last bit._

And the only thing I got was another smile from Ms. Kitely – I was so frustrated telling Josh about it, and he told me that her smile was most likely full of pity – and she just suggested that I put it in the fantasy writing contest, next month.

And so instead of _Blue and Raggedy_ , I had to enter in a short story about one time Amelia pushed Rory into the duck pond with one of my books and pretended it was the swimming pool, and I called it _Rory Is Sitting in Duck Water With a Copy of 'The Gammage Cup' and Amelia Has Way Too Much Imagination._

I won second place and a ribbon.

I think the title lost me points.

 _Five Months and Eight Days_

Can you miss something you don't even really know? I miss the Doctor and his messiness. And I miss his magic blue box.

But I have to believe, right? I do.

So every day I hug Joshua good night and I tell him to hold on, because we're going to places no one can even dream about, and he'll smile. Little smiles, tired smiles, but real.

He's hurting. I am too, but nowhere near as much as he is. I used to mope about it before I met Amelia, about my mom and Ken and my friends and how I was going to miss them all, but I think about it, and I really didn't lose much. I was in kindergarten when we moved, and five years old is really not twelve years old. I love Mom still, and Ken, she was a really good sister. My best friend in America was quiet and very kind, too, and I think her name was Meryl.

But I still call my family in America sometimes, and they're doing fine. Mom's remarried and McKenzie's in college, and when I ask about why I'm in England Mom just tells me that "your father and I just weren't working, hun, it happens sometimes."

It's not a very good answer, but at least I have one. Joshua's still looking and he hasn't found a thing. I think he's still shaken up about our family splitting in two.

That was when he turned sad.

But I'm going to fix it.

He's going to fix it.

When he comes back. And he will come back.

He'll be back.

He'll be back.

Before we know it, Josh. He'll be back.


	5. Times Change, Faith Doesn't

Before we know it. I don't know it yet, and I can wait.

Grade 7, it's called here. Seventh grade, junior high, grade 7, whatever it is, it has been four years since Amelia and I and the Raggedy Man. I'm tired of waiting, really I am. But I can't give up and let Joshua's only hope go. I can't just lose four years of my life.

Amelia's in sixth grade now, still a year and a half younger, and she's still super brave and just a little bit sassy.

It's been a while since I picked this notebook up. I kind of dropped it under my bed…for four years. There's a lot to catch up on.

This feels like a diary now, and that is not what I wanted. But what story can I tell now? Only the boring one.

It isn't what I wanted. This is not how I wanted things.

But I didn't want to have a stepmother either, and that's what happened. I don't hate Linda for taking my last name, and I don't hate my mom for trading Blythe for Aleman. I can't hate my dad when he's so happy now, but there's something there and I hate it so much for what it's doing to my only brother.

Joshua avoids Linda like she has some kind of horrible disease. He's quiet around her, even during his manic stages.

Manic stages, that's right. I'm pretty sure my brother has manic depression. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not the Doctor, and I know he'd know, but if my reading and asking and searching mean anything, then that's what's been wrong with him. We both kind of lost our family, and had to move, but he lost his friends and his sort-of girlfriend, and my uncle on my dad side had manic depression, too.

And so that's why I'm the protective little sister, and will probably be a monster to any girl who decides she likes Joshua. Which might sound silly, 'cause he's 6 years older than me, but when the eighteen year old doesn't know how to sleep anymore, it's just not funny.

I've been sticking closer than ever to Amelia now, and Rory, and we hang out with Mels a whole lot, too. They're practically my family, even to the point where I'll drag Joshua out with us when I can and together we'll go for a walk or have coffee or something.

And even though it's kind of obvious because I haven't written in four years, there's something missing. Two somethings.

A something and a someone.

We haven't seen the Doctor since that night. Or his time machine.

And sometimes I randomly think of that man and his dimples, and sopping wet hair, and it won't leave me alone.

Usually it's when I'm camped out on Joshua's floor on one of the really bad nights, sometimes with Amelia, and those are the nights I know there's no way I'm forgetting about the Doctor.

And I make sure that I remind my bro, too.

"Joshua, we are almost there. A little longer and we can run away with him."

And his smile, too, small, and maybe a little crazy but bright. "Alright. Alright, you know where to find me."

.

* * *

.

We will never be too old for a game of "Raggedy Doctor." And today Joshua was with us, on a weekend he didn't have to be fixing cars.

It looked a little strange, a bunch of kids crowding a taller almost-grown-up in the middle of the park, and this time, the roles changed.

"Whose suit did you tear up for this?" Joshua asked, eyeing the rips in the fabric.

Amelia shrugged, a little too proudly. "They were community donations. I added the raggedy-ness, though."

"And Rory watched and did nothing about it," I added. Joshua grinned for a second.

"She said I wouldn't have to dress up as the Raggedy Doctor today," Rory defended.

"Because Joshua is taller, like the Doctor," said Amelia. "And he has the right dimples."

"Okay," Josh nodded slowly. "Okay. So I'm pretending to be your Raggedy Doctor."

"Yours too," I corrected. "You're coming too."

Being included made him feel good, even if his instinct was to be alone. I could see it in his eyes, and his small smile.

"So _our_ Doctor. Our magic blue-boxed Doctor, and the only thing I really know about him is that he's picky," he said.

And that was what got him sitting cross-legged on the ground while Amelia and I told him the whole story, from the beginning. He nodded and listened, and by the end of it he wrinkled his nose up and asked, "Who fixed the shed?"

"One of Aunt Sharon's friends," Amelia replied, looking a little unimpressed. "He owed her."

"Ah."

Joshua nodded, and he looked like he could be about our age just sitting there in his rags and Converse. (They _were_ red, until Amelia looked at them and said she had paint. Joshua just watched her paint his shoes with his mouth hanging open a little, like he wanted to say something but never really did.)

Today was one of the good days, when he was feeling okay, and I knew that. But I couldn't help laughing when he stood up with his hands behind his back, gave us his dimply smile and said, "Well then, anyone call a Doctor?", because seeing my brother happy is one of the best things I can ever ask for.

Well. I think having my brother be happy with me, Amelia and _the Doctor_ would be way better. But I'll wait for that.

So for a little while I just stood there, and I watched Joshua play with my friends. Amelia was very detailed when we played – she had a basket with her full of everything from that night, and she was handing the apple to my brother.

He smiled a little, and squinted at the fruit.

"Apples, do I like apples?"

Then he took a big bite, and even though Joshua Blythe likes apples, Raggedy Joshua played the Doctor perfectly. He made a face and spit it out, and threw the apple across the park.

"Oh. No, I hate apples. Those're disgusting. Never give me one of those, _ever_ again." He clapped his hands together and leaned over Rory. "What about you, do you have anything edible?"

He was super into the game now, and Amelia loved it – Rory is a good Doctor, but he never really leaves the script. And Joshua actually smiled and bounced around and acted Doctor-ish, and I wondered if the real Doctor would be impressed with how well someone who had never met him could pull him off.

"I, um… we have yoghurt," Rory said. His eyebrows almost touched his hair, he was so surprised.

"Really? I love yogurt, give it here."

And when he spit the yogurt out, I saw it coming and stepped out of the way. Some of the people outside their houses stopped to stare at us, but I didn't care, and Amelia and Joshua didn't care, and maybe Rory cared a little bit. Everyone knew about crazy Amelia and crazy Ariane and their Doctor-in-a-box. Everyone had probably seen the comics Amelia drew and the stories I wrote with them. Everyone knows we play Raggedy Doctor pretty much all the time. Everyone knows everyone and everything in Leadworth, because it's so much smaller and quieter than my old city in America.

Sometimes I miss Brookdal, or what I remember about it. It was small, but bigger than Leadworth, and it seemed more alive. There was a skate park and a theater, and lots of schools and lots of kids.

At least I can wander around Leadworth because it's so small. Mom wouldn't let me go anywhere outside the block without Josh or Ken.

I did join in the game after a while.

But now before I smiled to myself, thinking that soon, we would go farther than Leadworth or Brookdal or any other old city.

* * *

 **Quick question: What is the general thought on Joshua? It's relevant to how the story will go, I promise. :) Thanks for reading!**

 **Oh, and thanks EXTRA for Wolf and Leopard, who made my day! Er, night. You really gave me a boost, schatzi! I'd totally make chocolate ganache for you, ya know?**

 **UPDATE: A thank-you to the lovely guest who threw forth all kinds of reviews! You really made me happy, schatz! And, to address the question about me mentioning Josh being 18 to Ari's 12 and saying the age difference was 13 years, well, that was a mistake. See, originally he _was_ supposed to be 13 years older, but that would make him around 35 when the real story happens. I wanted to make him seem younger, more vulnerable, and 20s has always seemed young to me. So I shortened the age difference a bit, and apparently I forgot to change the 13 year difference. Thanks for spotting that, dear! :D**


	6. Wavering

_He yelled at me. And his face after was so sad and hurt it made me cry._

Today was not a good day. Today was _such_ a bad day.

I don't even know where to start.

I started first year high school – 'freshman's' shorter – and I was given the least clever nickname ever. I had my binder decorated with the Doctor's blue box, and _everyone_ knows that story, so everyone knows about Crazy Amelia and her Raggedy Doctor, and everyone knows Box-Brain Blythe now and her maniac brother with the torn up clothes.

So, to say it in a nice way, I spent the first week being laughed at by some jerks. Some very _British_ jerks who also gave Amelia and Josh and I a hard time for our accents. I don't know about Joshua, but I know about Amelia and I know about me – we aren't losing our accents even If it means we'll fit in a little more. It's like a reminder of home.

No one really made fun of us about our Raggedy Doctor when we were younger. I don't have Miss Kitely anymore, but I do go to read to her class during lunch. Sometimes I'll read my own stories. And those children are younger and more colorful and they love hearing _Blue and Raggedy._

Miss Kitely said it was part of growing up.

But what's the point of growing up if you can't be childish sometimes, then? Growing up is a bad idea. Growing up is empty.

But I had a tough day, and Amelia did too – I barely even got to see her before her Aunt Sharon was shoving her in the car and taking her to her psychiatrist's appointment. I'd have one too, if my dad paid a little more attention. He doesn't neglect Josh and I, he's just got his own life with Linda now. And that's fine, because Amelia says the psychiatrist is horrible. I believe her.

She was on her third appointment with her fourth psychiatrist. The last three went away with bite marks and angry faces. One of them said she'd sue, but everyone knows everyone in Leadworth and Amelia's Aunt Sharon called her off with one snappy retort, "I'll tell your husband about Jeremy." And Mrs. Third Psychiatrist left scowling.

I don't even blame Amelia for biting them. They were telling her a big and unforgivable lie. The Doctor _was_ real, and we _weren't_ crazy and we _didn't_ need to leave our imaginary friend behind. And they deserved all the pain of her bites.

And I hadn't seen Josh all day. So when I got home I went looking for him, and his door was locked and the lights were off. And I called and called and eventually knocked over and over on the door, and he didn't answer.

So I picked the lock and went in. And he was curled up on his bed staring at the wall.

"Not right now, Ariane."

He rarely called me Ariane. That was a red flag.

"You didn't answer, Joshua." He was worrying me. He could have answered.

He was quiet.

"What do you want," he said.

It wasn't a question. It was flat and dull and I knew he was in the middle of his more depressive phase. On one of the bad days too.

"I wanted to check on you." I moved closer and sat on his bed. He looked at me for a few seconds. The wall was more interesting.

"It doesn't matter. One day doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. One day _always_ matters, Josh." Which was why I checked every single day.

And I should have remembered. I read so much about manic depression and I forgot one of the symptoms of manic depression. _Sometimes people experience "mixed mania," a cross between the manic and depressive stages. During this time they are often extremely irritable._

I forgot.

And I flinched when Joshua sat up all of a sudden.

"Then why wasn't I given one day, Ariane?"

His eyes flashed faintly. He looked angry and hurt and lost and I regretted saying anything.

"He came to me at three in the morning, Ari. He said 'pack your things.' That was it. 'Pack up, Joshua, because we're leaving.' He had your stuff ready. I think Mom even helped him with it. And by the time I had everything in my suitcase – one suitcase – Dad and I were out the door and he was carrying you. I get a hug and kiss from Mom and McKenzie and they just stood there and waved. We boarded the plane two hours later, Ariane." His brow tightened with an anger I wasn't familiar with. "They didn't give me one day. They didn't give me _anything_. Why should it matter? It shouldn't. It really shouldn't. Dreams are dead and _everything_ changes and you should just go and wait for your fantasy."

It _hurt_.

It hurt me so badly it felt real.

I stood there. I stared at my older brother and wondered what had snapped in him. And a hollow feeling grew in my stomach.

But even _that_ didn't hurt as much as Joshua's suddenly still figure.

He flushed red; then he went ghostly white and he couldn't look at me anymore. " _Oh_ ," it sounded like he said, so softly it was probably just a breath. He choked quietly. And then he shut down. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, and then he just laid back on his bed and pulled his pillow to himself and buried his face in his arms.

And while I could get into his room easily enough, there was no way I was getting past the wall he put up.

I wasn't sure I wanted to.

And so I ran. That's what will _always_ separate me from Amelia. I run when she stays. I don't have her bold fire, and I was so ashamed of it as I ran.

I locked my door. I hid in my blankets and I held my Raggedy Doctor doll tight to my chest. And I cried so hard. I cried so, so hard. My throat burned and my stomach was turning over and I was angry at Joshua. And I felt so bad because _how could I be mad at Joshua?_

 _How could he call the Doctor a fantasy?_

He was coming back. He _was_. He was seven years late right now and I was two weeks from being fifteen, but…

Right?

 _Right?_

He said he would come back. He _said_.

Did he forget?

But I saw him, and I talked to him. I _hugged_ him, even. He got yogurt on my shoes and they were still stained when I donated them.

 _Aren't you coming back, Doctor?_

* * *

I made sure my face was dry before I went to Amelia's. I ran right up to the stairs – and she was sitting right there, on the porch.

She wiped her face.

She was crying too.

"Amelia? What's wrong, what happened?" I asked, and I sat down by her and we hugged.

"I bit the fourth one," she mumbled.

"He probably said the Doctor was fake, too."

"He did." She was quiet. "Ariane, he said we needed to move on. Aunt Sharon said so too, in the car. She said she's known all around Leadworth because she's the crazy girl's aunt. People think we're crazy."

"They've always thought so."

"Rory is starting to think so. He said he really wants to believe me, and you, and it's a fun game – I don't know if he was telling the truth there – but it's kind of weird that the Raggedy Man hasn't shown up yet."

I blinked. Rory too? "But he's… _Rory_." Rory always believed us.

"That's what I said," Amelia replied.

I nodded, and we both sat and stared out at the garden, at the spot the Doctor crashed in and the shed Sharon's friend fixed. "Joshua snapped at me," I admitted quietly. My eyes started to burn a little. "He said to just go and wait for my fantasy."

"Joshua?" Amelia asked, eyes wide. "He snapped at you?" Joshua was agreeable and mellow and quiet, she knew. She couldn't imagine my brother snapping at anyone.

"It wasn't his fault," I mumbled. I didn't want to say it was his fault. I didn't want to be angry with him.

And we sat in silence.

I don't know if you can feel ideas before they happen. But I think that's what happened. I got a sick feeling in my stomach again and Amelia kind of shrunk down and the air got very, very thick.

There was a thought, and we were both thinking it. And I didn't want to say it. And neither did she.

It was almost a crime to think that.

"Four of them," she said quietly. "I bit all of them and they all left, and they all said to move on and grow up. Everyone thinks we should grow up. Everyone thinks we're crazy."

 _Amelia…_

"It's been seven years," she continued, and I made my hands into fists and bit my cheek. "And we haven't heard a thing from him."

 _She was getting too close to the thought. I wanted her to stop._

"Rory believed us for seven years. He played with us. He ate fish custard. Joshua played with us. Joshua would wait with us. And they both are giving up on us."

 _Amelia, please._

"We miss out on a lot because we're playing Raggedy Doctor and watching the stars at night. You stopped joining writing competitions. The girls and the boys laugh. Everyone _laughs_. No one believes it."

I held my breath. I wished I was home, because I _knew_ all of it was true but I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I didn't want to.

 _And she said it._

"Ariane, I think we should stop waiting."

"Amelia?" She said it. She said it. She just took a big eraser and erased seven years.

She lost her hope.

Amelia Pond, all courage and fairy tales, gave up.

And I ran from her too.

* * *

I cried an ocean today. And I swam across it and I cried another one. I sat on my bed feeling drained dry and tired, and I wonder, is this how Joshua feels all the time?

I hugged myself and I hugged my little Raggedy Man, and I sat and sat and I sat.

The door clicked open. I didn't look up.

And then someone sat next to me on my bed.

"I was being mean," Joshua said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ari."

I looked at him in surprise. He looked worn out. I felt worn out.

I was going to say, it's okay, but he wasn't finished.

"I've been irritable today. I don't know why. There's no real reason for it, but I was. I'm not usually, but I was, and I took it out on you. And that wasn't right."

He met my eyes with his. And he gave me a little, sad smile.

"That's the last thing you deserve from me. You've been making sure I don't die of exhaustion or isolation for years. No normal fourteen year old should have to do that. Guess that comes from having a basket case as an older brother." His shoulders sagged.

"You're not a basket case," I said quietly. And he laughed, kind of dryly. He bit his lip and shrugged.

"I'm sick," he said simply. "I'm so sick, mentally, and I have no idea what to do about it. I'm so tired, and when I'm not I'm so energetic it scares me. I know I'm messed up, in so many ways, and you're all the better for putting up with it."

He gave me a hug, and put his chin on my head like always.

"It makes me angry, and sad. Being here. That's what I've been hung up on today. Just here. You know something, I was twelve when we moved, maybe thirteen. I had my best friend, Katrina. We were at that point where we were between being very close as friends and about to just try dating. And it's hilarious and I really hope you have nothing going on with a guy right now. And I had to call her and tell her, I just moved to England, I miss you so much and I love you, and I won't forget you, keep in touch." He made a breathy laugh through his nose. "And do you know what she told me? 'Oh. That's too bad.' That's it. This girl and I was so convinced I loved her and, _oh, well,_ that was too bad. That was it. She's moved on. My other friends moved on. I was thinking of that. I couldn't stop thinking about that." His tone went a little sheepish. "And you still put up with it.

"I appreciate it. Even when I don't, I do. I just have a harder time seeing it, sometimes."

And then he smiled again. I felt it. Not a big smile, but it was there.

"And you know, Ari, I don't want you to listen to me when I'm like that. You can wait for your Raggedy Doctor for eternity, and I'll wait with you."

I cried all over again. But they were good tears.

* * *

And, as another note? I went back to Amelia's for a while. Her room is clean of anything Doctor-y. It looks… well, different. Not good different either.

But want to know something?

She kept her Raggedy Man doll by her pillow.


	7. Misplaced Trust

_"Who, the Doctor? Oh, yeah – he was a story. Just a story. We were little kids. I'm not crazy, Rory – oh, fine, but you're crazier."_

I wasn't meant to hear that, don't think. Not that it was my fault, necessarily. 'Can you grab the curling iron?' she'd said, so I did, and I ended up hearing her conversation with my other friend.

I paused before opening the door. It didn't really matter, right?

It did. That was why she closed the door.

I honestly don't really bother with English equivalents anymore. Apparently I'm a little too _Yankee_ for British English. (Josh tried it out – but _torch_ and _lift_ and _crisps_ sounded wrong and strange with the harsher American tones and he gave up on that.)

So here we were, my senior year, the day before graduation. Grades 11 and 12 allowed to attend a prom of sorts, and the rest were allowed to eat their hearts out in jealousy.

And here I was, half-zipped in a long-sleeved dress and pretending I hadn't heard anything. I believe I did a good job of it.

Amelia gave me a big smile when she saw me, and motioned for me to _sit down already!_ And so I sat, and she plugged in the iron and started doing my hair, talking on the phone at the same time.

"Alright, then." She bit her lip to stop the silly smile from spreading on her lips. "So, we'll meet you and Brian an hour then? Okay, great. See you then." She looked down at me in the middle of grasping a difficult strand. "Brian says _hello_ , and he can't wait to see you, gorgeous. He's sorry he has to leave early, but he's going to _make up for it."_

Her smile turned a little mischievous, and I guess I have to admit my blush. Brian and I have reached the one-year mark already, and if Amelia had a say in it, I would finally kiss him today. Maybe I would. But Joshua would never, never let it go.

As it turned out, Amelia's hunch that Rory was gay was dead wrong. I'm not sure if she knew, or if she was going with him as a friend, but Josh asked me, and I asked Rory, if maybe it was that he just had his sights set on my best friend. And he blushed and stuttered his way through an admittance that, _yes, he kind of liked Amy._

Amy, that's right. She's been _Amy_ since she hit freshman year. As far as I know, anyway. I wasn't too happy with it, and she insisted on the idea that she wasn't a little girl anymore.

We'd had an argument over that. My position mostly being that _you've been Amelia since we were kids,_ and her defense being that _haven't we grown out of fairy-tales and raggedy men in boxes?_ And that's when I knew "Amy" would be a little bit more trouble than I was used to.

I don't want to sound like her mother, but since when is taking a dare to kiss as many boys as possible in one lunch period smart in any way? Even Rory was being a little mother-hennish about it, though he had completely different reasons than I did. Even Joshua winced and went, "She's just turned into a little punk, hasn't she?"

"Why don't you just become a kissogram, then?" I asked her once, more a little fed up with her new attitude.

Amelia had paused in the middle of applying an edgy red lipstick. "You know," she said, "I might do that."

So the blame for Amelia's career choice lands on me.

Sorry, Rory.

Amelia tousled my hair a little, and tucked some strands behind my ears.

"All set," she said proudly. Then she zipped up my dress. "Okay, now you're all set. Go ahead and look."

And so I did.

"Amelia! Oh, my g – that's _fantastic_!"

I turned and hugged her tightly, still glancing in the mirror at myself. She'd done great – my mass of hair didn't even look like a mildly dead possum anymore. The brown ringlets even went well with the deep blue dress – admittedly my favorite color since I was eight.

"He's going to fall at your feet," Amelia enthused confidently. "Okay, my turn."

And so I straightened Amelia's hair and pushed the fiery locks behind her head.

"That's it?" Amelia laughed. "I think I'm getting less than I paid for here."

"Hold on, Pond," I grumbled playfully. "You can't rush art."

"Hurry up, Blythe," she threw back, "you're on a time limit."

I stuck my tongue out at her and began braiding and straightening and clipping some locks and letting the rest hang loose.

"Should I be worried?" Amelia asked. "There seems to be a lot going on back there."

"Shhh!"

And so, in the end, I ended up wrapping a braid round her head and pinning it with a diamond clip. With the forest colored dress that had as much personality as she did, I didn't have a hard time picturing Amelia as some mischievous Celtic princess. Maybe a fairy.

"Okay, you're finished. Get up."

Amelia saw her reflection and she couldn't stop grinning.

"I know why you're my best friend now," she teased, turning her head at different angles with her eyes trained on the mirror.

"Oh, whatever, Amelia."

Her eyes flickered every time I called her that. She'd already fought me on the name. And I won. She was Amelia.

Josh ended up taking us in his truck. He'd fixed the thing up by himself, and honestly, he'd done a good job. College or no, attentive parent or no, between books and how-to videos and our father's training he was easily Leadworth's best mechanic. The only trouble was the fact that some days it took a load of nudging and pleading to even get him out of bed and to work.

But with his skill, no one could really say anything about it.

"Careful, Ari," he told me quietly as I slid out of the truck. I gave him a grin that he returned.

To Amelia he raised his eyebrows.

"Make sure the number of people you kiss stays in the low dozens," he chided. "Have fun, punk."

Amelia stuck her tongue out at Joshua, her eyes crinkling with laughter. She and Josh were the definition of the word frenemies. She wasn't Amelia or Amy to him. In his book she was either Punk or Button ("Because she pushes mine," he'd explained), and she was just fine with that.

"Right!" Amelia exclaimed. "We have boys waiting."

The set of Joshua's shoulders spoke of a figurative eye roll. He smiled slightly.

"Right. You don't want me here for that. I'll scare them off." He considered. "I think Rory's immune by now, though."

His _if I stick around I'll run Brian off went unspoken._ I heard it anyway.

"Okay," I said, and smiled. "Bye, Josh. Love you."

"You too, Ari."

It both pleased and scared me to see that as soon as he pulled out, he didn't look back. Like he trusted me to be alright without him.

I guess it's been like that for a while though.

I understand that I've turned this book into a diary. But it's only going to get so far. I don't think I need to write about the tingling in my stomach and the fluttering in my chest when I saw Brian, all dressed up and dapper with his black suit. He didn't necessarily match with me, but that hardly mattered. I barely took note of Rory, sidling up to Amelia and looking delighted, stunned and flustered all at once.

In the books they make the entire 'girl sees her boyfriend and walks to him from across the room' sound like she's walking in a daze, in complete euphoria and the rest of the world falls away. Not quite how it happened, and I wonder if maybe I over-romanticized the experience. I was a little too aware of it all. The laughing, the talking, the flashes of color from other peoples' outfits. I was focused on Brian, though, and how he clashed so nicely with my timeless blue. It was loud and it was frazzling and I felt a migraine coming on but I was _excited_ , and I was _happy_.

"Hi," I said when I reached him. I can't help but wish I was more eloquent when drowning in adoration.

"Hey," he replied, and I instantly felt better.

Brian glanced over my head across the room before he looked back at me.

"You look amazing," he told me, running a finger briefly over a curl. He flashed a grin at me and offered me a hand. In a split second, I took it and squeezed once.

And then I lost myself. The entire thing was a blur of radio hits and dancing, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, and during one song he had his cheek pressed against mine as we slowly spun. We bumped into Rory and Amelia at one point – Amelia whose lips, I was surprised to find, had not touched another person's yet so far – and we traded off for a song, Amelia flying into Brian's arms and Rory holding me like a brother holds a sister, like Joshua would hold me. He kept giving Brian worried glances and I'd squeeze his forearms, telling him that it was okay and I'd never let Amelia leave him like that, not for my date.

He laughed, and for a split second I was sorry that I hadn't asked _Rory_ to be my date, and so sorry that I didn't have feelings for him – because as amazing and handsome as Brian was, there was no surpassing one of Rory's laughs, and he had a patient and gentle way about him that any girl would be blessed to have. Sometimes Amelia took him for granted. I never did. I watch him with his quiet politeness and the way he pores studiously over medical books (because there's no way he won't become a doctor ((not Doctor)) or nurse), and I'm always, always struck by how he's going to make such a good husband one day, and I am so proud of my friend.

It was when Amelia broke away from Brian and I hugged Rory in thanks that she came. A slim, dark haired beauty with flaring makeup and a confident way walked straight up to Brian.

Her satiny dress was the exact shade of green as his tie. His suit was the tan of her headpiece.

I froze, and Amelia and Rory looked over with eyes wide, when she all but flung herself on my boyfriend, looping her arms around his neck, and gave him an open mouthed kiss.

"What?" Amelia hissed. Her vibrant eyes narrowed as she sped through every possible explanation. She didn't like what she saw.

And neither did I.

Brian's arms came up to the level of his chest and he flinched backwards.

" _Ana!"_ he said hastily. "You can't – not right –" He gestured not-very-subtly right in my direction.

Ana turned, and she saw me.

And she _cringed_.

"But you said you'd tell her –"

"I know what I said," he interrupted her.

I was speechless. _It wasn't real._ And yet, as I tamped down the dreadful hollowness building in my core, the bile rising in my throat, I couldn't help but think that it was all _too_ real. There was a sudden spike in my headache.

"Brian?" I asked shakily. "What…"

He took a half step away from Ana, whose lips were pulled back in a wince, and reached a hand out. Clasping his fingers gently around my shoulder, he chuckled. Nervously.

"Ariane, I promise you, it's not…" But it obviously was.

"Brian," Amelia said warningly.

He grimaced, and I stepped away from him. His hand followed, as if to clutch at me again, but Rory pulled me back with a gentle hand in mine.

He was not glaring. But he stared through my boyfriend with a look so sharp that I pitied Brian.

Everything was circling uselessly in my head, and I stood, catatonic, in Rory's brotherly embrace. Amelia's eyes were as fiery as her hair, and her fairy-tale boldness came back, more vengeful and intense than I'd ever seen.

"It's not _what_?" she said hotly, advancing a step. She was taller than him, I realized, and he looked even smaller right now, cowering away from both her and the wide-eyed stares of the people around us. She was not fazed. "This girl comes and kisses you like she's – she's your wife or something, and whatever it looks like, it's _not_?" Her Scottish brogue became thicker by the second as she processed, and I shrunk back against Rory. "She kisses you and you come coordinated with _her_ instead of your _girlfriend_ and we're _not_ supposed to think of a bunch of worst-case scenarios?"

I looked up at Rory as he decided to speak up. My head was throbbing.

"That was why you said you'd only be able to attend half the prom, wasn't it?" he said quietly. His voice carried, and that was when I realized everyone was silent, watching. Brian opened his mouth, but Rory beat him to it. "How long were you cheating on Ariane?"

And there it was. I thought it would be okay, just as long as we danced around the word. I put so much into the past year. I put my all into being good.

And Rory said it.

And Brian answered.

"A few months," he admitted, sheepishly.

 _A few months._

I'm trying so hard to make this legible. I'm trying so hard.

And I feel so _stupid_.

"Okay," I said, to his shock and mine. My voice shook. "Okay." And then I looked right at him and used my long-suffering one, the one I used for the most awful moments during Joshua's lows, the one I tried so hard to keep steady for when he admitted to wanting to just shoot himself and be done with it. I used that voice, the emergency one that hid how much I hurt.

"Goodbye, Brian," I said quietly, and people moved out of the way as I walked out of the building. Or, I thought I did. Until I realized that Rory was leading me out and I was barely walking. My head was aching and I was in blinding pain now.

"It's okay," he told me carefully, once we were outside. And because it was okay, I went ahead and cried.

I cried until Rory's shirt was cold and damp and he must have called my brother because then Joshua was there, gently picking me up and putting me in the passenger seat of the truck. The normally soothing rumble of the truck went at odds with my intense migraine. Opening my eyes hurt and I felt faint.

"Brian," Rory explained, and Joshua's lips thinned.

"I had figured," was all he said. "Where's 'Melia?"

"Still inside."

"She'd better do her job."

He didn't elaborate on that and drove us both home, after Rory hugged me goodnight.

He didn't say much else, really. He just took me inside and sat me down on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen with the liberty he'd had when he lived here.

Then he sat down next to me, and was silent for the longest time.

I looked up at the cool feeling of a glass bowl pressing against my arm, and looked up.

Joshua offered me the bowl of fish sticks and custard once more. I accepted and leaned against his arm, sticking a well dunked piece in my mouth.

"You know," he began quietly, his American accent becoming softer, posher, British. "That dress is lovely. Really a lovely color. Reminds me of a story I heard once, about a magic box of the deepest, most impossible blue, and the raggedy stranger that fell out of it…"

A smile tugged at my lips as he told his rendition of _Blue and Raggedy,_ but I couldn't help thinking of Brian.

And the next morning, when I saw him walking down the street, his face adorned in purple bruises the size of Amelia's fists, bile rose up and my chest constricted in hurt.

I was going to kiss him last night.

* * *

 **Look! I'm back! I promise, I think that's going to be the last Doctor-less chapter for now, heheh. I think everyone's sick of Ariane's stupid personal life. Thing is, now I have to focus on whether I want a certain Blythe to be alive and present for the duration of the story.**

 **Hah.**

 **Thanks for reading, schatzis!**


	8. Clarity

Twelve years. Twelve years later.

 _Twelve years later!_

 _One hundred and forty four months!_

Give me a moment. I need to come to terms with this.

Let's start from the beginning, right? Deep breaths.

What was I doing, what was I doing… Right, I was at Josh's place. I was there with him and we had eggs on toast. Perfectly domestic, and I sat and looked at him and we both started giggling about how old we both were now (we both have our own homes, for crying out loud!). I remember that's what happened because I was thinking about how odd his laugh sounded – hysterical and ever so slightly unhinged. Just how he laughed.

I'd run from my small place two doors down from Amelia's halfway across town to his. And I did today, thinking that it was just another day.

I was dead wrong.

I stayed with Josh for a few hours – he had a day off, and I had enough hours built up for a day to myself, too – until around noon. And that's when I got the phone call.

Amelia calling me wasn't so strange. At all. The last time I remember a phone call being particularly _memorable_ was when she informed me months ago that she and Rory were now dating. (Naturally, Rory was visibly flustered for about a week.) Usually she just called me up and we talked easily, about anything and everything.

I don't have a sixth sense for earthshaking events, so I picked my phone up casually and answered.

"What's going on, Amelia?" I asked by way of greeting, just in case she got herself into another mess. Probably involving her job. She does that. Frequently.

When she spoke, her voice was hushed and frantic.

" _Ariane_ ," she hissed into the phone. "Ariane, you won't believe it! _He broke into my house!"_

 _Broke in._

"Who broke in, Amelia, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just – I knocked him out with a cricket bat."

"Who did you knock out? When?" I asked, worry edging into frantic anxiety. Josh's eyes were wide and he leaned forward. _Is she okay?_ He mouthed. _Do we need to go get her?_

I held up a hand – one moment.

"Amelia?"

"About an hour ago – think he's waking up – _he's waking up –"_

"We're coming, Amelia, just –"

" _Shh_! Wait one second! _Quietly_!" she said quickly, and then it went silent, except for the sound of fabric rustling around the phone.

When Amelia spoke next, it wasn't to me, and the panic in her voice was gone.

"White male, mid-20s, breaking and entering. Send me some back-up, I've got him restrained – oi! You! Sit still!"

 _What?_ Joshua mouthed at me. _She's pretending to be a cop now?_

I shrugged helplessly.

"...cricket bat," I made out beyond the fabric – probably Amelia's pocket. "I'm getting a cricket bat."

I froze. That voice. I was sure I hadn't heard it anytime recently, but it felt so familiar.

"You were breaking and entering," Amelia said sternly.

There was a metal noise, as if chains were being rattled. Or cuffs were being struggled against.

"Well," the familiar-not-familiar voice said. "That's much better… brand new me. Whack on the head's just what I needed."

 _Brand new me._ Those words were so significant to me and I couldn't understand why. It was on the tip of my tongue, and my mind ached with effort.

Joshua had a contemplative look on his face, too. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was mouthing _brand new me, brand new me_ to himself, over and over.

I turned back to listening to Amelia impersonate a policewoman, and he was still thinking over the phrase.

And then he sat straight up, eyes gleaming in recognition.

 _"'The stranger in rags paused,'"_ he quoted slowly. _"'His face was troubled, the lines around his mouth tight. "It's difficult," he said, "Brand new me. Nothing works yet."'"_

He was quoting my story.

He was quoting _Blue and Raggedy._

On the other line, the man – _only not a man_ – the man's voice reached a new volume and kept rising.

"Where's Amelia?" he asked worriedly.

Everything stopped for me. _Could it be?_ every cell in me sang hopefully. And yet something in me refused to entertain the notion – everyone gave up, and nothing happened. They all said he wasn't real, so I believed quietly and feigned adulthood, and dreamt of the skies in secret, and in the end my belief starved and bled out in silence.

"Amelia Pond?" my best friend asked.

"Yeah," the stranger said quickly, probably nodding rapidly as well. "Amelia. Little Scottish girl, had an American friend, Ariane. Where is she? I promised them five minutes but the engines were phasing, I suppose I must have gone a bit far. Has something happened? Are they alright?"

I gasped behind my hands. Joshua put his hands on my shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze, though he was surprised, too, at how his guess was falling into place so neatly.

And while I struggled to breathe, Amelia lied.

"Amelia Pond hasn't lived here in a long time."

Dread began coloring his next words. "How long?" he asked carefully.

"Six months." _Lie_.

But he didn't know that.

The voice on the other end paused for a split second. And when he spoke, he spoke with near-panic.

"No," he said fervently. "No. No. No, I can't be six months late, I said five minutes. I promised. What happened to her? What happened to Amelia Pond?"

I dropped my phone. It shattered.

That moment in time where everything clicks together irreversibly… it just happened. It's described as a moment of clarity. Everything I was screamed silently. _It'stheDoctortheDoctortheDoctortheDoctor_

And it _ached_.

"It's the Doctor, Joshua," I whispered. "He's come back."

I didn't need to say another word. In a blur, we were throwing the door open and running across Leadworth.

* * *

 **Part one to prove I'm working!**

 **Also, question: do you want Joshua to act as another companion or do I cut him from the story?**


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